AN: Yeah this is my first story, been reading fanfiction for a while and finally decided to throw my hat in the ring. I always thought that GOT and The Witcher would be a good match up so here it is. Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors. Some good critical reviews would be nice, thanks

DISCLAIMER : I do not own the Game of Thrones (Owned by George R.R. Martin) series or the Witcher (Owned by Andrzej Sapkowski) series. I'd be swimming in cash if I did.

This is the new first chapter, I will be going from here. I needed some more character interaction so this was made. The next chapter will be up soon.

Before you begin reading I think I should clarify some things. You do not need to know anything about the witcher to enjoy this story, because my story takes place right at the beginning of the first game. So I will reveal a lot of information about the witcher Geralt and how he acts, so this story is open to all people who enjoy game of thrones or the witcher.

Enjoy

-ISH

It was a dream. It simply had to be. Yet it felt real as his body continued to dash through the tall grass. Each running stomp he took caused painful fire to shoot through his rib side, he was bleeding quite a bit he noted idly. The plains were a blur to his eyes as he continued to run for hours in deathly fear. He doesn't recall ever being afraid, so why now? It's probably due to the fact that death's fingers seemed to claw at his neck; something was hunting him and he doesn't know what. Considering he was only in his britches this had to be a sick nightmare.

The blood loss is affecting his head now because the world seems to be whispering something to him, Geralt! Multiple times he hears this name but he doesn't dare stop running in the fields or he may die. Death isn't something he wants to encounter right now, especially without a weapon in his hand to fight it off. Eventually his body decided for him as he collapses fatigued and in pain. He lays on the ground as rhythmic thumping gets louder and louder. He sees the hooves of a horse crash into the ground in front of his eyes before the world goes to black.

His glowing golden cat eyes opened with a start as he awoke for a gasp of air. He tried to lift his body from the cot but a copper hand pushed him back down. He looked to see who laid a hand on him and found a portly woman in tanned robes with a flat nose and black hair kneeling beside him. She spoke to him in a sing-song like language, but it was just noise to him.

He responded with a dry throat, "I cannot unders-" Coughing overtook him and the woman handed him a clay cup of water for him to drink. He spoke once more after he imbibed it, "My gratitude, but I can't understand what you're saying."

"So you speak the common tongue," she replied in a smooth accented voice, "Do you hail from Westeros?"

From where? He doesn't know a placed called as such, so he stated with an arid and deep voice, "No, I am from…"

He cannot remember where he is from. Not only that, no memories are coming to his mind. His brow creased as he tried thinking more about his situation, where exactly am I and what happened to me? Why can I not remember a single thing? He was strangely calm, almost numb as he continued to fail at remembering anything. People would usually become stressed in this situation, but to him it simply felt like another day.

Once he finished thinking he replied smoothly, "I don't remember where I'm from actually. I can't remember anything."

It felt like he was grasping at wisps of smoke. His memories would not hold form no matter how hard he tried.

"Truly? Nothing at all, not even your name?" She was looking at him rather queerly as she studied him and spoke. He did not seem completely human to her, with his pale skin and his silk white shoulder length hair and strange eyes that held a predatory glow to them. She could feel that he is dangerous however, but not unstable. His dangerous demeanor could also be attributed to all the scars that littered his muscled torso and thick arms, like he was mauled by a multitude of beasts and men. There was also a scar over his left eye down to his cheek; without a doubt this man was a warrior of some kind. Luckily they have some guards outside the temple in case of him attacking, but that doesn't seem likely.

Thinking about his name brought up the world whispers again, Geralt. That strange dream or memory, whatever it was may have provided his name, "I think my name is Geralt."

She responded with a raised brow towards the man called Geralt, "You think?"

"I can't be completely sure, but it feels right."

"Well can you recall anything?" She leaned forward and checked on the ragged lambskin and ointment that covered his gash from the left side of his chest down to his hip.

"Nothing but that name, how did I get here?" As he said that he looked around Geralt saw that he was in a temple of some sort with small windows above. He noticed other tanned dark haired women and men, either sick in cots around him or praying and chanting closer to the other side of the mud caked building near carvings of Shepards and flocks. However, this was just one of the rooms, where the healing is done perhaps¸ he thought. When the others looked towards him they seemed frightened and quickly looked away muttering something in their language. Probably because of him being an outsider they distrust him. Which begs the question, why does this godswife aid him while others start at merely a glance of him? More trusting in nature perhaps?

"You were found on a farm in our town that resides in Lhazar," she told him after she was sure his wound was not infected and the makeshift cloth was situated correctly, "It was Mira Vas Nira who found you, and with the help of her children they brought you here to heal your wound, it was quite deep."

Mira Vas Nira, what a delightful name. He must thank her when he gets the chance. He turned his cat eyes to the strange woman helping him, "And who are you?"

She looked at him with wide eyes as if she just remembered she didn't introduce herself, "Oh, my name is Mirri Maz Duur, a godswife to the Great Shepherd."

"Godswife?" He questioned.

"We are healers, midwives, and priestesses of the Great Shepherd. The peaceful Lamb god who is the shepherd to us all." She made sure to provide extra knowledge to the man who seems to have lost sight of his herd and path with his recent memory loss.

"I see…" He trailed off, those words did not ring any bells in his mind, and so he sat there thinking what to say next. He then began speaking again, "How long have I been here, and where exactly am I?" Hopefully something she says may help him.

"You've been sleeping for one day and two nights, you seemed quite fatigued when brought here, but your wound is healing quite hastily," More hastily than a normal man, but she kept that to herself, best not to make an enemy of this warrior. Her witch's instincts warn her to tread carefully for this man could either be beneficial or a menace to this town, "As to where you are, we are bordering south of the Dothraki Sea, yet just north of Slavers bay, in Essos." She made sure to answer this in detail, so he may hopefully understand something. Judging by the lack of emotion dancing across his face nothing she said helped him.

Outstanding, he thought sarcastically, I am completely lost and nothing she says makes sense, I feel like I do not belong here. Most of the time in the temple was spent by Geralt asking more questions about his whereabouts to get the lay of the land. He discovered that not many people in this town speak the so called common tongue, only a few. But many people in Essos do speak it. However, the longer the conversation went on less and less did anything make sense. Dothraki? Westeros? Lys? Sothoryos? She even asked if he knew anything about Targaryens, however it just flew over his head. These words were just empty to him, no meaning attached internally to him. Hopefully this is just because of his recent memory troubles, and not something more sinister. Kindly, Mirri made sure to instill some very basic knowledge as to where his location is during their conversation, and for that he is grateful to her.

Once the many details of the world around him were planted in his mind he asked something he should have cleared up earlier, "Did I have anything on my person, other than these britches and boots?"

"Ahh, Yes." She went to the corner of the room near a dresser and grabbed something from the top and returned back to him, "These amulets were found on your person, some people wanted to steal them because they are quite fine in make. But we in the temple are godly people and do not approve of such acts." She did not say what happened to the would-be thieves, they were probably chased off, he thought.

He sat up fully on the sheepskin cot, this time noting that only a minor soreness seemed to hit him, and grabbed the amulets to inspect them. One of them was an intricately crafted sliver snarling wolfs head with ruby's for eyes. Immediately, Geralt felt some sort of relief he did not expect when the medallion touched his hand. Yes, he thought as he put the medallion around his neck, this is tied to me in some way and I must always wear it. However no memories returned because of it. The other amulet was peculiar, three dogs made of a shining metal biting at each other's tails, and where their feet met at the center was an acorn sized gem of brilliant bright amber. It felt otherworldly in his palm, and he felt the wolfs head around his neck shift a bit in its presence, but the feeling was gone so quickly that he thought nothing of it.

Once again nothing returned to his mind in the company of the medallions so he put the dog amulet in his britches for safekeeping. He couldn't help but feel disheartened about his recent memory lost so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. However, he quickly accepted his current situation without judging it. Life is too short to attack oneself over something that cannot be immediately changed. Maybe some meditation will clear my head and help with my memories, with this thought he couldn't help but wonder where he learned to meditate properly. The woes of amnesia.

"A question, if you are able to answer?" Stated the godswife as she looked at the pale man, "Have you always been the way you are? I have never seen a man such as you," Her curiosity of all things mystical needed to be sated. After all an unnatural being is before her.

He opened his eyes and turned to the so called godswife, "I don't understand what you mean. Am I so different compared to the lay man?"

All she did was hand him a piece of flat metal to serve as a mirror for him to look upon himself, which he did. When his eyes landed on the mirror he stared back at two golden cat like eyes that reflected magnificently from the makeshift metal. Pale skin littered with scars and white tresses falling down to his shoulders. He felt as if he always appeared this way, even though his memory was jumbled. So there was no surprise, but he knew that normal humans do not have eyes such as him. Ahh, so that is why they look away in fear from me, he noted, but he is not ashamed of himself nor will he ever be. This is who he is…

Witcher!

The thought shot passed his mind like a crossbow bolt. He does not know the depths of its meaning, but he is sure that it describes his person. In time hopefully more will come.

"All that I can tell you is that I believe I was always like this, and as for how, that is a mystery even to me," He will keep the witcher thought to himself, no need to be burned at the stake here. If that is what they do.

"A shame," She stated, "I never met a person such as you and my curiosity needed to be satisfied, but it seems that will not happen for now."

"Now I have a question for you?"

She nodded her head to show that he has her ear.

"How come you don't fret in fear when you look at me? The others can barely stand to look at my eyes," This godswife shows no fear in the face of an unknown. Not many people are capable of such a feat, so it has caught the so called witcher's attention.

"I have a greater tolerance for the mystical than the mundane man," She had a strange twinkle in her brown wide eyes as she spoke, "After all I have traveled to Asshai-by-the-Shadow and practiced magical shadow binding and more."

Magic, that Geralt does believe. Now he does not know what this woman is capable of, for she is no simple healer. However, this does not invite prejudice into his view of her, if anything it made him respectfully wary of her. Anyone who has the patience to learn magic is a deadly adversary to deal with.

"Hmm, I guess I have to keep an eye on you witch," He stated jokingly with his dry voice, "I don't wish to be an ingredient for your spells."

"Then tread carefully, oh white haired warrior," She riposted with a smile. If that was a joking smile or a deadly one, Geralt couldn't tell. He is hoping it's the previous one, after all he doesn't wish to bifurcate his healer.

The witcher prepared another question hoping to finally get on his feet, "Is it alright for me to leave? I'm only slightly sore and I don't wish to impose any longer." He despises being stuck in one spot for too long, and wishes to feel the wind on his cheeks.

"You do not impose," she stated with a slight smile the belied her possible abilities, "We are healers so we perform our duties the great Shepard instilled on us, and I do not stop you if you wish to go."

He could not help but return the slight smile with one of his own, "Thank you, if there is anything I can do to return the favor-"

"No need, like I said we are healers doing our duty to help the lost sheep," She interrupted, once more affirming her faith. What a dutiful woman, she must have healed a great many people in her time. Apparently knowing magic does not make you a dark entity, how you use it is a different story although.

Geralt stood up from the cot, and with his slightly taller than average build, gave off an imposing shadow. He asked the portly woman another question, "Do you know where I can find this Mira woman? I wish to thank her, and see if she knows anything to help my memory."

"She can be found in the far east side of town, when you leave the temple make a left and follow the main road all the way to the end, she owns the farm called White Sheep Meadows you can find the sign easily. I always thought it was amusing that she decided to name her farm, but Mira always was an odd one. Luckily for you she can speak the common tongue, I believe she is from Westeros actually," She stated this as she turned back to the dresser to grab something, "And take this tunic with you, we do not need the ewe, the female sheep, swooning over your roguish build." She stated this with a chuckle as she handed him a white tunic which reached passed his hips.

He grinned and said nothing as he placed the tunic over his body and looked at how it rested with his long brown leather britches and boots. After he was situated and ready to leave he turned to the godswife once more, "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me. Don't hesitate to ask if you need my help, I'll make sure to pay this debt." This witcher is too professional to allow such help without returning the debt in some way.

She simply shook her head with a smile, "Must I state it once more? We are a peaceful people who believe all men are of one flock, to help a stranger is to help ourselves. So there is no debt to be paid."

"A nice saying that may be, but the world is not always a great place for benevolent sheep," Geralt does not need his memories to know the darkness of man, even though he believes his recollections back up his claims. As he begins to leave the temple he states with sincerity, "Be careful and take care of yourselves."

"As you, Geralt," She said with a wave, watching the strange fellow she nursed back to health leave her temple. As he left Mirri could not help but think, times are surely going to change now.

Once Geralt stepped outside of the temple, he felt the hot rays strike upon his face, causing him to close his eyes slightly so they may adjust to the influx of light. After they adjusted he gazed upon the town of sheep herders and farmers. This town owned quite a big and good plot of land for the farmer's affairs, and they even have some guards posted around in leather armor carrying curved sabers. Single story buildings constructed from mud and stone alike stretched on for miles, at least five thousand people lived in this area. A marketplace was situated on the road to his right, people bartering for sheepskin suits, meats, milks, cheeses, and an assortment of other offerings. He could actually smell the cooked salted meats and how they blend with the fresh grass to form an unusually delightful scent. As of now though they are just distractions to Geralt, for he needs to speak to this sheep farmer to offer his thanks and hopefully learn something to jog his memory about what happen.

So Geralt began his trek making a left and going towards his destination, the White Sheep Meadows, and he noticed one thing. His complexion and overall appearances makes him stand out quite a bit in the sea of dark haired and copper skin toned individuals. They would look at him in wonder, curiosity, and for quite a few cases disgust. However, Geralt discovered he has an uncanny ability to simply ignore such bigotry and trifle. It seems this may have happened to him quite a lot so he developed a thick skin for these cases. So without even giving these people a second glance his journey continued onward.

Eventually, his trek to the farm began to bear fruit for he found a sign in front of a rather large plot of land. This sign held a crudely painted white sheep hopping over a fence with the name White Sheep Meadows, in the common tongue overhead. There was more writing underneath that name, but it was illegible to him. Must be the other language these people speak, Lhazarene as the godswife called it. He took a moment to look at the farm and found a modestly sized brick and wood hut that could fit a nice family of five, it even has outdoor seating in the front. The land behind the hut was impressive with wooden fences chest high and dozens of sheep and lambs running around the tall grass. There was even a wooden barn the size of the house inside of the fence where the animals run.

He began to approach the front of house before someone called out in a shrill childlike voice. He turned to his right to find a girl that seemed no older than six years of age. She had short messy brown hair, a copper complexion like the rest, but her eyes were a light blue instead of the brown he found in this town. She wore some sort of brown working gown as she crossed her arms and stood before him, speaking in that singing Lhazarene language without fear. Geralt shook his head and responded, "I can't understand you little one."

She looked at him queerly then realized something, and spoke softly to herself before running inside of the brick hut. Geralt simply stood there wondering if he should follow after her, but before he could the door to the hut opened again and someone came out. This time it was a full grown shapely woman in a dark blue robe like gown with an apron covering the front. The hunter for hire saw immediately that she had a comely face with high cheek bones and almond shaped ocean blue eyes. Her black hair was pulled upwards into a bun, with a few sweat stained strands settling over her tanned forehead. Geralt couldn't help but hope it was this woman who found him half dead.

When the woman saw the man standing in her front yard her face showed surprise. She started speaking in that enchanting language that sounded magnificent with her rich and vibrant vocal cords. Sadly, the witcher could not speak in that tongue so he responded for possibly the third time today, "I don't speak Lhazarene. Are you Mira?"

Mira cocked her slightly head to the side, and smiled softly and responded in the common tongue with that velvet voice, "Yes I am, and you were the half dead man that was bleeding on my farm. You're lucky the sheep didn't eat you and shit you right out."

…

Ohh, Geralt really liked this woman now. What a deceptively soft smile for a woman filled with bite. He couldn't help but let out a quick chuckle, "Apparently I am, I came here to thank you for bringing me to the healer. If it wasn't for you I might have died as sheep food, a sad way to go."

She let another dazzlingly smile grace her lips, "Your welcome stranger."

"My name is Geralt, wouldn't want to be a stranger to one as comely as you," he replied with a slight smile.

"You're going to have to try harder to get on your savior's good side, simple complements are scarcely enough," she turned her head condescendingly as she stated this. A woman with looks, a sharp tongue, and she's not even reacting to his appearance. The unknown white wolf loves the company of such a lady, hell he loves the company of women in general.

"Well do not worry, there will be no lack of trying," He stated, now however he must ask some serious question, "If you have the time I need to speak with you about some things?"

Mira raised an eyebrow then nodded her head, "Come inside, my children are out back tending to the sheep and horses while I finish making supper." She turned away then walked back to the hut and opened the door, while waiting for Geralt to step through.

The inside of the hut gave the impression of a well lived in home. Some sheep skin rugs lined up across the floor, and comfortable chairs crafted from fine wood and more sheep wool. The kitchen and dining hall contained a brick and stone stove which had a stew cooking over the fire under it. A wooden table with sheep skin cushioned chairs around it was where Mira sat down and motioned for Geralt to do the same, which he obliged.

Once they sat Mira spoke up, "What is it you wish to know?"

"I was hoping you could clear some things up for me, you see when I woke in the temple I couldn't remember anything but my name," He started off with that and stared at her with his piercing eyes hoping she gets the gravity of the situation.

"Truly? What a dreadful experience," She responded, "You sure you didn't just drink too much ale and get into a bar fight?" Apparently she couldn't resist one crack.

"If only, but no," he shook his head at that, "What I wanted to ask you was if you noticed anything unusual when you found me? Was I saying anything or was there someone else around, whatever comes to your mind would be helpful."

Mira looked to the side before she looked back at him with narrowed eyes, it seems she was contemplating something, "Yes, there was a queer event that took place before I found you…"

"Queer how?" Geralt leaned forward as she spoke.

"I heard screaming that awoke me from my slumber, however this screaming was not…common," She trailed off on that word, "It sounded like the screaming of a thousand shrill wraiths passing above my land." She stared at him directly as she stated this, "It was that which made me and my son, Rakos, gather the horses and search the farm… that was how we found you and you alone."

Geralt didn't know how to reply to that, but one word caught his attention. Wraiths, why does that word set me ill at ease, he couldn't help but wonder what it all meant.

"Other than that you were just a dying white haired man on my field, so me and Rakos took you to the temple on horse to heal you up and left you there," She stood up after that to check on the stew on the stove. Once she was sure it was ready she took the pot off the fire with a rag in each hand.

After she finished with the stew she turned back to the white haired man, "Now I have a question for you?"

He looked at her inquisitively.

"Are you hungry?"

His growling stomach answered for him.

He was surprised to get the invite to dinner, however he will not complain. After all he hasn't eaten something in quite some time. So now here he is sitting at the table with one beautiful woman, the little girl he met earlier, and two boys. One boy seemed to be around one and three years of age and the other around one and one. The older boy had copper skin with short cropped dark hair and dim freckles across his nose and brown eyes, Mira said this boy was Rakos and he takes his looks after his father. The other boy had longer dark hair, with blue almond shaped eyes like the little girl, his name is Eymir. Finally the little girl is called Nyla, and each child currently is giving him strange frightened looks. Apparently, just because their mother was more accepting of him, doesn't mean the children would be.

Dinner was a quiet affair until the boy, Eymir, spoke up, "Your eyes weird…"

It seems he knows some broken common tongue, his mother must be teaching them. And speaking of the mother for some reason she seems oddly proud of her son as she corrects his broken Westerosi, "Its 'your eyes ARE weird', don't forget that word it's important."

"Yes mama."

Huh, Geralt just stared blankly at the scene before him, not knowing how to respond. He doesn't really do well with kids, so he just says what's been on his mind since meeting this woman, "You have been taking my appearance rather well compared to most people in this town, why's that?" He was honestly curious, even the godswife mentioned something about his appearance but this woman acted like it doesn't even matter.

Mira's blue eyes looked up in contemplation before answering, "My husband always said that looks rarely matter; I think it was probably because his nose got beaten so many times that looks were a sore spot for him. But he was right, plus your eyes remind me of a story my grandmother use to tell me when I lived in Westeros."

He raised a brow as he continued to eat the lovely lamb stew with vegetables, "A story?"

"Mhmm, I used to live in the north of Westeros close to Deepwood Mottes, and in the north they always talked about the old gods and mystical creatures. Especially the children of the forest," she smirked when she brought up that title, "The children were a mysterious childlike race of people who lived in the north thousands of years ago, and they knew all sorts of magic. One of their features was that they have big cat like glowing eyes, and really small child bodies. My gran never shut up about them, saying they would come back one day, and look who is front of me. A real life grown up child!" She couldn't help but say that with a delightful smile, "Looks like old nan was right."

"Wow!" Nyla was astonished, apparently even she knew some Westerosi. All the children were looking at the witcher rather excitedly now, "You really child?" The little girl asked innocently.

"No," Geralt crushed that innocence ruthlessly as they all ate, "Are you a child?" He could hear Mira snickering slightly.

"No, I adult!" She defended herself, after all she worked hard on the farm! It looks like she did not understand the question completely however. The consequences of miscommunication during conversation.

He turned back to Mira to continue the conversation, "Why did you leave Westeros?"

Her eyes gained a sad quality as she answered him, "I met my husband," This delicate smile graced her face as she began to speak, "I never did like the north, always so cold and dreary. I wanted to see what the whole world had to offer, but I was just some peasant girl not a highborn. My chances of leaving that place were almost none. Eventually a traveler named Duny vas Nira from across the narrow sea came to my little town and gave me the chance I always wanted. We fell in love traveled around Essos together and settled down in one of the safest towns. I guess you could say it is your typical story, but I will always be grateful to my lost little Shepard."

Geralt was never known for tact so he just asked, "What happened to him?"

"He was murdered two years ago," Now her eyes got a darker, harder quality as she stared at her meal. The children fell silent and also just looked at their meals, "Murdered by Dothraki scum while he went out of the city with friends to do some trading. He told me he would come back in a fortnight, one fortnight became two and no word still. Eventually, one of his friends returned home beaten and bloody and told me what happened. They were taken as slaves by Khal Ogo to be sold at Slavers bay, but my husband helped his friends escape at the cost of his life. He may be a hero to some…But I just miss him…"

The witcher closed his eyes softly and replied, "My condolences," There was nothing more he could offer her right now.

"It's alright, sometimes I need to speak of him. It helps to let it out, and it's been quite some time," She looked at him with a simple smile, all he could do was look in her eyes and nod in return, "Let's speak of something more cheerful…"

Eventually dinner returned to its rambunctious state until the end, to Geralt it was an enjoyable experience. Just being around people every now and then can improve his mood, plus he needs to take his mind from his recent memory loss. But all things must come to an end as night began to fall, and farmers always rise with sun so bed was early for the children. Once the mother put the youngest to sleep the rest followed; she returned to the dining room to find it empty of her guest. She went outside and found him sitting on the long bench out front looking towards the night moonlit sky. She sat down next to him and they simply enjoyed the silence the night provided them. The crickets sang their song as the flashing light bugs danced to the tune provided, it was a beautiful night. Surely tomorrow will bring a great day.

"What will you do now," Mira asked as she turned to look at the rugged white haired man that entered her life by bleeding on her farm. It seems he pulled his hair back and tied it to a low ponytail so it does not interfere with his face. It did let her look clearly at those intense gold eyes that pierced into the night so easily.

"I don't know," He responded still looking towards the moon. He has many options in front of him yet so little at the same time. He wants to regain his lost memories, but the road to that goal is covered in fog. He has no idea how to start. It feels like he was just dumped into this world with no direction on how to recover his memory. Just the wait and see approach seems to be the most viable option, traveling might help so seeing Essos is something he will be doing. He told Mira of his plans to travel and hopefully find something that regains his memory.

"So you are going to be leaving? When," She sounded disheartened as he stated this. She did not want to see this mysterious man leave just yet.

"In time, first I must completely heal which will probably be a few more days," He honestly feels great, but he should not strain his wound so much.

"If you want you can stay in the barn, there is room for you to sleep there," She smirked impishly at her mocking statement.

He stared into her comely eyes and responded, "I can only stay in the barn? I would prefer to sleep in your bed?" He was confident as he brought up his suggestion, as usual.

"Ha! Rather presumptuous of you," she laughed and shook her head, "It will take more effort from you before that can happen."

She did not say no, he thought idly. Some more effort on his part does not ruffle him at all, he was a hard worker after all.

"Now let's get you set up in the spare room," Inadvertently admitting she was joking about the barn, "Tomorrow you will begin to pay your debt to me," This statement had a smile to it. Geralt wondered what she will have him do, but would not mind waiting till then. He did owe this women much, and right now he has nowhere else to go. Mira knew this and happily took advantage of that.

Eventually, she set him up in the spare room within the hut. He expressed his gratitude and said his goodnight to the lovely mother as she went to sleep in her room. Geralt could not help but stay awake and gaze at the ceiling. It seems like things are moving in a good direction, and in the morning a new dawn will come.

Geralt awoke early in the morn to the baying of sheep. To others such noise would be a far off whisper, incomprehensible to their ears. But to him it was as if the sheep were in the room with him. The white haired man couldn't help but notice this, even though it was not an inconvenience to him. His senses were well trained, even if he does not remember such training; he has masterful control over each of them. Slight noises, small muscle twitches, rapid eye movements, indistinguishable scents, all of these signals were an open book to him. What training must he have done to achieve such skill?

Pondering on them did not assist him in anyway, his memories will come back on their own in time. So he stood up from his bed, clothed in his britches but shirtless with the sheepskin still covering his torso wound, and turned his sights out the window. He was gifted with a beautiful view of the farm as the morning sun began to rise over the horizon. This would be a great time to meditate, he thought, morn meditations were always peaceful. So he situated himself on his knees in front of the window, set his hands on his thighs, and slowly shut his eyes. He was right, today brought a beautiful day.

His breathing became rhythmic, but not loud. Having loud breaths during meditation breaks concentration. He made sure to bring his breath into the lowest section of his stomach, all the way to the groin before he slowly released it from his nose. During this moment all of his senses increased exponentially, as he brought the world into himself. Nothing escaped his attention during these hours, because now his attention was on the world. And to have your attention on the world, meant to have attention on yourself. Thoughts appeared in his mind but they floated away like clouds, for they are not associated to him. He is no longer his mind, his mind is a tool to be sharpened and used; he is the world.

He could hear steps approach the door behind him, before it slowly opened after his hour if worldly time. These steps were too heavy to belong to children, so it is Mira he surmised. Instead of speaking up however she stood at the doorway and observed him. How polite, but he was finishing his meditation so he spoke up with his even voice, "Good morn, Mira." From her sharp quiet intake of breath he could tell she was surprised, all little actions never escape his senses.

"Good morn, Geralt," She replied, "I did not wish to disturb your trance." She seemed worried she might have offended him in some way.

"You didn't," he assured her as he stood up with open eyes looking towards the morning sun just now over the horizon, before turning to the mother. Mira once again noticed all the scars around his bandage that littered his perfectly honed body. They ranged from claw marks, bites at his shoulder, punctures wounds near his abdomen, and sword slashes. Either he has been lucky many times, or has fought too many times to count. Yet, she thought, what manner of monster can inflict such wounds on a man?

Nevertheless, she will not swoon like a young maiden at his impressive build. She has too much dignity for that, "Place your tunic on exhibitionist, I do need such harlots in my presence." She turned a condescending cheek at him to show her will is strong.

He smirked lightly as he placed his tunic on, she couldn't stop the slight twinge of disappointment that entered her mind at seeing her view gone. Though she will die before admitting that.

"Now then," She turned back to him and stared at his piercing gold Forest Children eyes, and now impassive face, "It is time that you make up your debt." After all, there is no such thing as free supper and Geralt knew that.

Mira's idea of making up his debt involved working on her farm with her family. It was something he honestly did not mind, such hands on work he was rather good at. Mira needed someone strong enough to plow the ground, and to him it was child's play.

Using the steel hand plow, shaped as a wheelbarrow, to rip up the dirt for planting vegetables gave Geralt the opportunity to test his strength, and it was a moment he happily took. The one foot of dirt gave way easily when he tried only a tad and he was able to make multiple trenches over a century of feet in a matter of minutes. Such rushed work would tire many men, but he didn't even sweat. This amount of strength and endurance was not normal for humans, but he wielded it easily. No wasted breath, and he knew he was much stronger and capable of so much more. Someone trained him well.

"Wow…" Rakos said with wide eyes at the amount of work Geralt just saved him, "You're really strong." The boy's head reached up to the witcher's shoulder, rather tall for his age.

"Guess I am," Geralt said no more. He was inexpressive like that, one had to coax a response from him, and he rarely started a conversation. Only when he needed to.

"Where did you get so strong?" The boy needed to know, such strength will be useful to him. And not just for the farm, he has other plans for it.

"Don't remember," Was all he replied to the boy of one and three.

"You don't remember? How's that," Rakos was perplexed.

"Woke up yesterday with no memory, now I'm here," The white wolf explained no more.

"Huh, that must blow a horse's arse." His common tongue was much better than his sibling's, he told him earlier he had more time to learn it.

"Yup." Rakos noticed Geralt's voice barely changed from that dry, deep, pitch. He seemed as strong as steel to the child farmer.

They were both quiet people of little words, so nothing else needed to be said between them. They valued the silence and continued to plow until they did not need any more trenches.

Geralt stopped and looked at the other side of the farm where the animals resided and watched as Mira with the other two children fed and groomed sheep's, horses, cows, and pigs alike. He and Rakos were ordered to take care of the garden and prepare the vegetables for the next harvest, so the plowing of the ground was only the beginning. As he was staring, Mira looked up over at him, smiled and gave a wave, Geralt returned the expression with wave of his own.

"Come on," The witcher stated to Rakos when he put his hand down, "We have more work to do."

"Right," Was the response he heard.

Once the garden was planted and ready, he and Rakos set about to grab water from the nearby river to feed the thirsty seeds. They took the main road all the way down and Rakos couldn't help but notice that everyone in town was staring strangely at Geralt, some even spit at the ground in disgust. Sure he has some queer eyes, but other than that he looked normal to Rakos. He doesn't deserve such stares, he is not even bothering them, Rakos glared back at the people menacingly. He liked Geralt, he was quiet and strong and doesn't complain. Such men deserve complements not disdain.

"Don't do that," Geralt didn't even look towards Rakos as he spoke.

He looked up to the white haired man in surprise, "Why not, they are being craven with their childish glares."

"Doesn't matter," He responded without emotion, "Such limp lilies are not worth your time."

"But they will think you a coward!" Rakos would not wish to be viewed as such.

"Let them," He said airily, "Because when the time for a real bloody fight comes, they will underestimate you. Makes for ending them an easy process."

"But you're so strong, wouldn't you want to show that?" If Rakos had strength such as Geralt's it would be known all across the lands.

"Being strong is only the beginning," Geralt decided to impart some wisdom on the boy, "Knowing when and how to wield that strength will always be more important. Only fools get goaded into losing control of themselves. A clear mind will always trump one blinded with fury."

Rakos didn't say anything else. He was too entranced because he just remembered his father said something similar to him before. Geralt didn't know it, but Rakos's respect for the witcher grew that day.

Geralt and the boy made it back to the farm quickly without and interruptions. They watered the seeds and were done with the garden for the day. Now they must simply wait for the next harvest.

He and Rakos were out back near the Garden when Mira approached them, "How was work for the day?"

"It went great mother, me and Geralt were able to get everything done in less than half the time," The smile Rakos gave her made the mother's heart fill with joy. Mira could tell Rakos was impressed with Geralt. He always looked up to the strong, and the white haired man has that in spades.

"That's good," She was glad everything went well, now she could go to the market and sell her previous harvest from the other gardens. She also has some animal skins they need to get rid of.

"Now Rakos, you and your siblings will watch over the house," She turned to Geralt, "You will come with me to the market, I have much things to sell." She commanded him, after all he owes her.

"Sure," He said nothing more as she handed him two large baskets of goods. She carried a third smaller one and they went on their way as she waved goodbye to her children.

On their way up to the market Mira noticed the looks they were getting but she thought nothing of it. It takes much more than some dirty looks to ruffle her feathers. "Rakos really likes you," she turned to Geralt with a smile.

"Hmm, I couldn't tell," he responded while looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"I'm certain of it, I'm his mother after all," A mother will always know their child.

"He's a good kid," Geralt could see that Rakos was hard working and obedient. He was confident the boy will grow up to be a fine man someday.

"I know he is, I raised him after all. Only greatness comes from me," She had to think of herself as great because if she didn't no one else will. Besides her children of course.

The white wolf could respect that confidence, but he also needs to knock her down a peg, "If you breathe too much hot air you may burn down your farm." Even as he said that his voice barely changed.

She mockingly hit him on the arm, "You pigs arse; you are supposed to agree with me."

He didn't respond verbally, only gave her a slight smile that made Mira's cheeks flush. She turned with a huff.

Eventually they made it to the marketplace and set up a table on the road with the other merchants. A few of her friends and usual customers came up to her to barter. She was able to make some decent coin for the animal skins and vegetables. Many of the townsmen stayed away from her because of the golden eyed intimidating figure staying by her side, but she didn't mind. Geralt would not be here long and she enjoys his quiet taciturn company. Then she just had to see the bane of her existence.

"Shepard's ugly sheep," She cursed. Why did Vorus Nah Gai have to come to the marketplace? Would he not take no for an answer.

"What's the matter?" Geralt could see the distress on her face.

"That man over there with the yellow doublet and brown trousers," She pointed to said man and Geralt noticed he had copper skin and brown eyes like the rest, but also a high ponytail with a Goatee, "he keeps on asking my hand in marriage ever since my husband passed and will not take no for an answer. Thinks just because his father owns the most sheep here his shite doesn't stink."

Geralt didn't like the look in Vorus's eye when he approached. He was surrounded by a group of three thuggish male farmers. Must be his workers on the farm.

"Well if it isn't the lovely Mira, you look as beautiful as ever," The smile this man gives would make some people swoon while others skin crawled, and surprisingly enough he spoke in common tongue. The witcher saw that he has the eyes of a man who gets all he wants, a spoiled man.

"And your face repulses me still, I said no three times and now will be the fourth," Mira didn't care for any pleasantries with this man. He was a vile whoremonger willing to fuck anything with a dress.

"That is why I must have you," Vorus's smile became predatory, "I rarely get rejected and especially by one as lovely as you."

"That's because I am not a common whore you can pay to fuck," She took a harsh stance, "I am a woman who makes her own choices, and I want nothing to do with you."

"Mira this is getting childish," He shook his head, "You can't keep saying no forever, after all I can buy out your farm if I wish. I am the richest farmer here."

"Your father can buy my farm, and if I recall he said he will not do such a thing," Mira smirked when she saw anger pass by his eyes, "After all your father is a man of hard labor, while you just ride on his coat tails." It was easy to piss off Vorus, just mention his father and he always exploded.

Geralt didn't say much, it seems Mira could take care of this herself. Another feature that made her stunning in his eyes, she was independent.

Apparently just standing next to Mira was enough to incite the rage of this man. It seems instead of pushing his anger on Mira, both would be his victim, "A woman who makes her own choice?! What choice is that, consorting with demons?!" Vorus slammed his hands on Mira table and knocked down all her merchandise. The marketplace became quite after that.

"The whole town knows of the demon you brought to the temple, with his monster glowing eyes. Now you bring him to the marketplace! You should keep this vile being in a cage!" Vorus voiced raised high in anger. The white wolf does not respect such violence towards his friends.

"Pick everything up and apologize," Geralt's command was simple and direct. No quarter would be taken.

Vorus looked shocked, "Apologize?! To some demon's whore. I'd rather watch her choke on my cock!" He had this vile smile that spoke of assault.

Geralt was not swayed one inch, "You'll be choking on my fist if you don't follow my command."

"Are you threatening me?" He seemed excited at the prospect, "We are four and you are one, your skull will be broken in half." Geralt watched as the three thugs pulled out some small hand held clubs. No matter, they will fall.

"Geralt don't-" Mira was worried, she did not want to see her new friend hurt for her sake.

The monster slayer turned and gave her hand a slight squeeze, "Don't worry, this will be over soon."

Vorus saw the interaction and sneered, "Truly a demons whore."

Geralt didn't respond, the man will be bleeding soon. So he slowly walked towards Vorus and his three goons. They stood in front of one another waiting.

One of the goons were the first to strike with their clubs, aiming for Geralt's head. To the layman it seemed as quick as a viper, to Gwynbleidd the man moved like syrup. He dodged the strike with only millimeters of space between him and the club, he could feel wind pass by his face. That arm was grabbed and the club was taken from him while the man experienced a knife punch to the throat. He choked on air as the thug felt his feet leave the ground and his body plowed into his fellow goon charging the demon. They both hit the ground hard and stomps to their head left them unconscious.

The last thug tried to catch Geralt unawares at his back, but the white wolf was always aware. He used the stolen club and crashed it into the head of the man behind him with a back spin. The club exploded into splinters while the man fell unconscious to the ground. This happened in the span of seconds.

And then there was one. Vorus and all in the marketplace could only stare in shock as Geralt slowly approached him. So Vorus did something foolish and pulled out a knife, the wolf only raised an eyebrow.

"You should put that away, you could get hurt," Geralt was giving him a chance.

"Stay back demon! I am warning you," This warning did not slow his approach. So Vorus struck, stabbing for the witchers head but only met empty air. A hand enveloped his face, a shoulder hit under his armpit, and a single foot stood behind his. Vorus was pushed hard into the ground and the back of his head met road, if the witcher wanted to brains would be slathering the streets right now. But he is not here to kill, only scare. Vorus dropped the knife the moment he hit the floor, and Geralt collected it.

It was now pointed at his enemy's throat now. It took a few moments but Vorus eventually could see and hear straight, now fear danced in his eyes.

"I'm only going to say this once so listen closely," That got his attention quick and Vorus was forced to stare into the eyes of a true Demon, "You'll never approach Mira again, and you'll not even look at her again. If you do I'll know, and it will not end well for you." He left that open to interpretation, the mind generates its own fears after all.

"What you're going to do now is get up, clean up Mira's stall, and apologize. After that if you don't follow my orders, well…" He just shrugged, "Now do what I said." What really terrified this spoiled son was the lack of emotion in the man's voice. Vorus thought he experienced his death three times over during his speech.

Vorus scrambled to his feet picked up all the vegetables and animal skins, and placed them back on the table. He then turned to Mira, kneeled and screamed his apologies. The lovely mother only nodded in shock and watched as he ran back home, leaving his goons behind.

Mira turned to the unknown monster hunter and smiled with a giggle.

(Unknown Area)

"What do you mean that you LOST HIM!?" A thunderous voice bellowed with uncontrollable rage at what he is hearing.

"It is as I have stated, we lost him and he took the amulet with him," This voice was calm and collected, the voice of a battle worn general who has faced countless adversaries.

"He took the AMULET AS WELL!?" The King Beyond All Kings could not believe what he is hearing, "Well what are you standing here for! Go find him and get it BACK!"

"It is not that simple, he fell within the passing of infinite spheres, it will take time to locate him, even if he has the amulet," It was always like pulling teeth with this one.

"I do NOT CARE how long it will take! With that amulet in his hands who knows what kind of damage he can do! FIND HIM!" He does not wish to hear any more of this headache inducing conversation, "You are the LEADER of our most prestigious unit! Get your act together! You're dismissed!"

"Yes my liege," Soon…

AN: So tell me what you think! Any constructive criticism is appreciated.

Till next time.